


Charlie Killed the Health Inspector

by singingtomysoul



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Dark Comedy, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingtomysoul/pseuds/singingtomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie takes matters into his own hands when the health inspector, appalled by Paddy's Pub's terrible standards of cleanliness, attempts to shut down the bar. Unfortunately, this means that the gang now has to deal with a hiding a dead body, evading the police, and trying to not kill each other as they process that they've murdered someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Open

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to singingtomysoul for wonderful brainstorming sessions, fantastic lines of dialogue, and support. I enjoy and have always enjoyed writing comedy with you, and it's made me really happy that we could create something like this together.
> 
> This fic is loosely inspired by the Spongebob Squarepants episode, "Nasty Patty." Really I would like to base a large chunk of my sense of humor on that episode alone. If you haven't seen it, it comes highly recommended. You don't need to have watched that episode though to understand anything that happens here.
> 
> Warnings for everything and anything already discussed on the show. Anything that has already happened is fair game to write about. Additional warnings for some existentialism, mental breakdowns, blood, discussion of corpses, discussion of murder, stabbing, and probably a few other things that will come to light as I continue writing the story. I don't expect it to be any more or less dark than the average Sunny episode.
> 
> Notes on the "M/M" tag - there will be some stuff going on between Mac and Dennis, but no more than is already happening in the show.

**12 PM**

**On a Tuesday**

After introducing himself officially (and shaking a few sweaty hands), the health inspector’s first order of business had been to request a round of drinks. He was sipping on each of them thoughtfully, examining the bottles and glasses, and taking notes. Behind the bar, Mac, Dee, and Dennis were staring at him, tense.

“How long is he going to be here?” whispered Dee.

“Keep your voice down, Dee. I don’t know,” said Mac.

“There is a nest of rats we just found in those heating ducts yesterday, dude, 'I don't know' isn't going to cut it,” said Dennis, a little too loudly. The other two shushed him; he gave them an offended look.

“Charlie is taking care of it,” said Mac.

“If Charlie didn’t eat old cheese up there, we wouldn’t have this problem in the first place,” said Dennis. He glared at the door of the back office, as if he could smite Charlie from a distance using only his eyes.

“You told him to stay up in the vents until this was all over, right?” asked Dee.

“What? No. This guy is going to want to meet our janitor. I told him to come back when he was done,” said Mac.

“Do you have any brains in your head? Charlie is a walking health hazard!” cried Dennis.

“Pull your walkie talkie out of your pocket and tell Charlie to stay put,” said Dee, her voice shrill.

“Who is going to be the janitor when this asshole asks to see one? Because I’m certainly not going to pretend that I’m a garbageman. I am the proud muscle of this bar,” said Mac. He rubbed his bicep self-consciously.

“I don’t care. We will say the janitor has taken a week-long vacation, just call Charlie _now_ ,” said Dennis.

Mac sighed, and pulled his walkie-talkie out of his pocket.

“10-4 good buddy, do you read? Where are you?”

Only silence answered him. He pressed the button again.

“Charlie 1-2. Call coming for Charlie. Report back to headquarters.”

“Is he not answering?” asked Dennis, nervously.

“Why isn’t he answering?” said Dee.

“I don’t know, dude, I don’t know!” said Mac. He sent out a call on the walkie-talkie a third time. “Charlie, goddamn it, answer!”

As if on cue, Charlie waltzed out of the back office with a grim look on his face. He was covered in rat guts, feces and grime. Surrounding his nose was a blot of grey paint, an obvious remnant of huffing. His enormous, nail covered rat bashing stick trailed behind him, making horrible scraping sounds and leaving a trail of muck in its wake.

The health inspector looked up from his work, and met eyes with Charlie. His jaw dropped a little bit.

“Shit,” muttered Dennis.

Charlie pointed to the health inspector with the hand that did not contain a rat-bashing stick. “Who’s this dick?” he slurred.

 “That’s the health inspector, Charlie,” said Mac.

Charlie’s face broke into a demented smile.

“A man of my trade,” he said. He held out his hand to the health inspector as an invitation to shake it, but the health inspector did not respond.

“Who are you?” he asked, looking slightly nauseous.

Charlie put his free hand on his hip, swaying in place as he did so.

“I’m the janitor of this fine establishment. As you can see,” he said, gesturing to his disheveled appearance, “I’m very passionate about my work. Killed about hundred rats just this morning.”

The health inspector swiveled in his chair, disturbed.

“Let me get this straight. You had a hundred rats in your bar this morning and your janitor bashed them to death with a stick while he was high on paint?”

Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. . .”

“When you put it that way it sounds so bad.” said Dee.

The health inspector stood up, and put his notebook under his arm.

“I’ve seen all I need to see. This place needs to be shut down immediately. I will send an email by tomorrow alerting you of all the changes that need to be made to your bar before you can open again.”

The room erupted in violent protestations as the health inspector began to walk out.

“How could you do-“

“Who gave you the right-“

“YOU SHOULD SEE THE OTHER BARS ON THE STREET-“

While Mac, Dee, and Dennis yelled over each other, Charlie’s face contorted into pure, feral rage. He trailed after the health inspector with his rat-bashing stick like a hungry caveman on a hunt.

The health inspector turned around to face him. “If you follow me home, I’m calling the cops. I will press charges if anything happens to me like what happened to that newspaper-“

His sentence was cut off by a smack to the head with the stick. The health inspector collapsed to the floor. The room went silent immediately, except for Charlie’s heavy, steady breathing.

The rest of the gang inched over to the body.

“He’s going to wake up, right?” said Dee in a small voice.

“Sure he will. Otherwise that would be really. . .really dark,” said Dennis. His hand found her upper arm, and his nails dug into it.

Mac tapped his foot against the body. It did not respond.

“I’m sure his eyes will open right back up any minute now. Any. . .minute. . . “


	2. Act 1, Scene 1

“No one is going to be fooled by his sunglasses. This is a stupid idea,” said Dee. She tore another small piece of her fingernail off with her teeth and forcefully spat out the chunk at the ground. Dennis gave her a disgusted look, but said nothing. His face was white, as were his knuckles, which clung to the barstool he sat on like suction cups.

“I . . . don’t see you having . . . a better one,” said Charlie. He was standing next to the body and holding him upright in what appeared to be an uphill battle against crashing on paint fumes.

“Yeah, well if I had it my way I wouldn’t be involved at all,” said Dee. “Couldn’t you have killed him when we weren’t in the room at least?”

“Could’ve. . .would’ve. . .should’ve. You live all in the past, Dee,” said Charlie. He swayed, and the corpse swayed with him.

“That is so creepy,” said Dee. “Stop moving.”

“Maybe if you let me huff more, uh. . .paint it wouldn’t be. . .issue,” said Charlie.

“Paint huffing is what got us into this mess!” cried Dee.

“Whatever. . .you win some, you lose some. . .” said Charlie. He swayed with the body again; its tongue flapped from side to side in its mouth. Dee shuddered.

“Mac!” she yelled. “Do you know where Charlie keeps his drugs?”

Mac, who was having a heated conversation with Frank on Dennis’s cell phone, gave her a dirty look, but did not respond.

Dee sighed, and went behind the bar. She grabbed a beer, opened it, and shoved it at Charlie.

“Drink,” she ordered.

“That’s not paint,” said Charlie.

“You’re not getting paint. Drink the goddamn beer,” said Dee.

Charlie took it begrudgingly from her hand, and tipped it back into his mouth.

“Can I have a beer, Dee?” asked Dennis.

“Get your own,” said Dee. She rummaged around beneath the bar to grab one for herself. She yelped as she stood up and was immediately greeted by Dennis’s most pathetic facial expression. It was like a puppy staring after you in the window, except the puppy was also trying to remember what the emotion ‘sad’ was.

It was unnerving.

“Goddamn it,” she said. “Just take the beer.”

He took it from her, hands shaking a little.

“What’s with your face, dude?” asked Charlie. “Are you going to throw up or pass out or something?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Dennis protested. Even his voice sounded thin and pale.“While you two are blathering on, I’m just over here coming up with…” He hunted for a word. “Brilliant plans. You’re so noisy. It’s fogging up my brilliance like...mist. On a window.” He waved them off, half-heartedly. “Amateurs, all of you.”

“If he’s gonna be nuts, I vote we leave him behind.” Charlie hiccupped and blinked hard, as if clarity was slowly returning to him.

“You don’t know shit about sanity until you’ve killed a man, Charlie.” Dennis took a large swig of beer, staring past the dead body and somewhere through the wall. “I’ll make the decisions as to who gets left behind.”

“He has killed a man,” said Dee. “Charlie is right, if you’re going to be a dead weight you can face prison on your own.”

“What’s this about letting Dennis get locked up?” asked Mac. He returned Dennis’s phone to his lap, having just finished the call. “He would never make it in prison on his own.”

Dennis squinted suspiciously at Mac. “What are you implying?”

Mac sighed. “Well obviously you would sell yourself. Pretty twinks like you make a killing in prison. I’m thinking you’d be on your hands and knees in three days, maybe a week.”

“A killer and a sex symbol. . .” Dennis pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“You haven’t killed anyone,” Dee reminded him.

“How much money are we talking, Mac?”

Mac rested a hand on Dennis’s shoulder.

“Questions like that mean you should never go to prison on your own, dude.”

Charlie groaned. “Oh my god can we talk about this later? What did Frank say? I’m tired of holding this body.”

“Frank said he was already on his way with a van some bridge guy gave him,” said Mac.

“Oh perfect. Just what we needed - a used murder van,” said Dee.

“Neither of you would let us use your car,” said Mac defensively.

“You assholes have ruined enough of my cars; a dead body crosses the line-”

“If you put the body in my car, I will kill you, too-”

“Still didn’t kill anyone,” Mac reminded him.

“Why do you even want this to be about you?” asked Dee.

Before Dennis could answer, Charlie interjected, “I still vote that we just eat the guy.”

Mac wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

Dee nodded her head. “It really is”

“It’s green! We don’t need to be burning up gas and dumping waste somewhere when we could just make a tasty snack-“

“STOP. Stop.” Mac shook his head.

 “He was going on and on about this earlier. Talking about which cuts of meat would be the best,” said Dee. “I’m not eating this dude. I would rather take the murder van-“

Mac cut her off.

“Can you stop saying the M word? This isn’t a murder. We’re just hiding a guy that isn’t living anymore because Charlie accidentally hit him on the head.”

The room went quiet for a moment as everyone pondered this guiltless statement.

“Such an odd time in my life, for there to be a murder,” Dennis muttered.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

Before Dennis could counter, a car horn honked outside the bar. Frank had arrived.


	3. Act 1, Scene 2

The back door of Frank’s dilapidated grey van was open when they arrived outside. He wiped his brow from his spot in the driver’s seat.

“Where’s the corpse?” He didn’t bother to keep his voice down.

“Dude. He’s right here. Who did you think this was?” Charlie had the body hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and he nudged it for emphasis. It shook, arms and legs dangling limp like a doll.

Frank shrugged. “Looked like he coulda been sleeping. Got a good disguise on him.”

Charlie smiled proudly. “It was my idea. See, Dee? It’s realistic!”

Dee rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Frank is a good bar to set your standards on.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re old and drunk and crazy, Frank,” Dee said.

Mac clapped his hands, frustrated. “Chit chat chit chat, throw the dead guy in the back. We don’t want people to see us!”

“You don’t have to be so bossy,” said Charlie as he dumped the body in the trunk. It twitched a little when it hit the floor. Charlie slammed the door; it made a hollow thunk as it hit the guy’s head.

“We can’t move slow when we’re on the run from the law. Policemen have guns and dogs with big teeth and they don’t hesitate to shoot killers.”

Dennis looked up at this in a daze, taking a moment to focus before pointing vaguely to the group as they opened their doors to the van. “Where are you guys going?”

“What planet are you on right now, bro?” asked Mac.

“I murdered this man. I can bear the weight of my crimes alone.” The words would have been melodramatic if his voice weren’t paper-thin. “You don’t all have to come with me on my soul-searching journey-”

“I thought you said Charlie killed him,” said Frank.

“He did. Dennis is delusional.” Dee tugged Dennis hard by his shirt sleeve, and dragged him over to the van. “Get in!”

Once they’d piled in and slammed the door behind them, Frank revved up the engine. Simon and Garfunkel began to play. A distinct scent of urine and cigarettes wafted out of the A/C unit.

“You really need to pull yourself together, man,” said Mac as he buckled his own seatbelt.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dennis, his voice shaking. “I’m perfectly fine, considering that I just killed a man.”

He fumbled with his seatbelt for a moment as if he couldn't quite remember how the pieces connected before giving up and staring forlornly out the window. Mac took pity on him and reached over to buckle it. Frank pulled forward and began to drive down the road.

“Could we just kill him too?” asked Charlie, only barely lowering his voice. “Because his attitude is really bumming me out.”

“That’s not a terrible idea, actually. We already have one murder under our belt,” said Dee.

“I don’t understand why we don’t just leave him behind,” Frank said. “He’s dead weight, and if he blabs on himself then no one else takes the blame.”

“That’s what I said!” exclaimed Charlie.

“Mac won’t let us,” said Dee.

“So leave Mac behind!”

Charlie put his face in his hand and sighed. “We can’t leave Mac behind. He’s a huge rat. We’d be found out right away.”

“That’s true,” Mac agreed . “It’s like an impulse or something, I’m really not good at words. I can do a great karate chop, but you put me eye-to-eye with a fellow badass, like a cop or a secret agent, I just crack like an egg.”

“We could kill both of them,” suggested Frank.

“What? No! No one is killing anyone!” cried Mac. He grabbed Dennis’s hand protectively; it hung limp in his fist.

“That seems a little excessive,” said Dee. “I don’t know if we would be able to hide three bodies . . . wherever we’re headed. Where are we going?”

“We’re dumping this sucker in the river,” said Frank.

“That’s a great idea! He’ll get all taken back to nature when he gets eaten by fish!” Charlie held out his hand for a high five, and Frank reciprocated.

“Then he’ll be gone,” said Dennis, his voice wavering. “Gone from me forever. I will have no reminders of the day that I took a life. All . . . .will be . . . well.”

He screwed up his face, caved in on himself and began to cry pathetically.

“Are you sure Dennis would be a hot commodity in prison, Mac? Because right now he can’t even hold a conversation,” said Dee.

“I’m. . .I’m sure that this is just temporary. . .” said Mac. Dennis leaned over onto his shoulder and continued to sob. Mac’s face flushed.

“What’s this about Dennis being a prison whore?” asked Frank.

“Mac is jealous that Dennis would bang other dudes in prison for postage stamps,” said Dee.

“It has nothing to do with jealousy! Take that back, you soulless canary!” Mac leaned over to point his finger between Dee’s eyes. She glared back, not even flinching.

“Really? Nothing to do with jealousy?” She swatted him away like a fly. “Please, enlighten me, Mac: what is your reason for not selling out this sad potato sack of a man?”

Mac opened his mouth to say something, but Dee didn’t even pause for breath. “And don’t you dare start a lecture about God or whatever. You’re dumping a carcass in the river to avoid the police.”

The car was quiet for a moment, save for Dennis’s mucus-filled sobs.

“I just think he would get hurt without someone to watch over him and, you know . . . make sure he banged the right people,” said Mac.

“So Dennis isn’t allowed to go to prison, unless you can go with him and be his prison boyfriend.”

“NO! It’s not like that!”

“It sounds a little like that, man,” said Charlie.

“It’s NOT! I’m just saying that he would be, you know, vulnerable to the wrong people, and he’d need a trustworthy person to protect him,” said Mac.

Charlie gave him an indignant look. “Why not me? You’re not talking about protecting me. I could be vulnerable.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “You’re disgusting, Charlie. No one would want you. You smell like an elephant’s taint.”

“I’d take care of you in prison, Charlie,” said Frank.

“Thank you, Frank. I know you would. I know.”

Dennis wrapped his arms around Mac’s neck and stuck one hand in his hair, sniffling noisily. Mac’s face turned an odd shade of red.

“Look, my point is you wouldn’t need protecting in prison anyway, dude! You’re terrifying,” Mac pressed, ignoring the sobs. “Whereas Dennis here-” He grabbed the pale wrist for demonstration. “If he chose the wrong guy, someone could snap these dainty little wrists in the throes of passion. Like matchsticks. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve SEEN it?” Dee echoed.

Dennis had stopped crying. He looked up from Mac’s shoulder. “I could take them. I’ve killed before.”

Mac patted his hand awkwardly. “No you haven’t.”

He sighed, and buried his face in Mac’s shoulder again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen now,” Dennis moaned. “Not like this.”

Mac frowned.  
“How was it...supposed...to have happened?” Charlie prodded.

Dennis just wailed. Mac reached a hand up to awkwardly pat his hair, making shushing noises that sounded more panicked than comforting. Dee and Charlie exchanged a glance before pointedly staring out of opposite windows.

“See, if anything…” Mac’s voice was going gentler, wistful. “He would be more vulnerable in this state. Guys would take advantage of him. He would trade away his delicate skin for the rough touch of a man’s hand in the name of a toothbrush.”

“Dennis has raped half of South Philly, Mac” Dee snapped in exasperation.

Mac had stopped listening. He was gazing intensely at Dennis, now combing his fingers through his curls. “It would be up to me to protect you. Your graceful features. Your willowy frame.”  
“You’re messing up my hair,” Dennis muttered.

“This is getting weird,” Charlie said.  He looked out the window again, and then sat up straight. “Oh shit, was that a gas station? I’m so hungry. Pull over!”

“What? We are not pulling over with a body in the car!” said Dee.

Charlie grunted in frustration. He banged his fist hard on the window, startling both Mac and Dennis upright in their seats

“Dude, what the hell?” said Mac.

“Why are you banging on the window, Charlie?” asked Dennis, squinting at him.

Charlie squirmed in his seat, banging harder on the window.

“I’m hungry! I want a candy bar.”

“You can get one after we hide the body!” Dee snapped.

“I swear if we don’t pull over, I will eat the dead guy. I’ll do it!”

“He sounds pretty serious, Dee,” said Mac. “Pull over, Frank. I don’t wanna see that.”

“We’re pulling over.”

“What?! But-” cried Dee.

Her protests fell on deaf ears. Frank had already pulled into the parking lot of the gas station. He pulled into a space, the body jostling noisily in the back as they rolled to a stop.

“I gotta make a phone call anyway.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took three months. I had massive writer's block about how the cogs of this chapter and the next chapter were going to work together for ages. But I'm back, baby!

As Frank waddled off to take his phone call, the Gang grouped themselves in a football huddle behind the car.

“Ok, so I just thought I should say that I don’t have any money to pay for this candy bar,” said Charlie.

“You mean to tell me that you made us stop and you don’t even have a dollar?” squawked Dee. “Are you kidding me?”

Charlie groaned in exasperation. “Oh look at me, I’m Dee, lording over everyone with my dollars and cents! You know, in this economy, some people-”

“I am not-”

“Alright, Dee.” Mac snapped his fingers officiously in Dee’s face. “Since Charlie has no money and you’re bragging, you have to pony up.”

“I don’t have a wallet! I left it behind on purpose. Who brings their ID to a getaway?”

“Oh shit. . .me too.” Mac frowned thoughtfully, before turning to poke Dennis in the arm. “Hey, buddy. You got a wallet?”

Dennis sniffled, wiped his nose on his arm like a child, and shook his head forlornly.

“Well, it can’t be helped. I guess we’re gonna have to steal it.”

“What? No. I refuse to steal a candy bar,” Dee snapped. “I’m not risking getting caught when we have a body in the trunk.”

“Princess Dee, too good to steal candy with her buddies-”

“You don’t even need the stupid candy bar, Charlie!”

Mac raised his hand. “Ooh, question. What if we just stole from the dead guy? He has a wallet, I bet he has a few bucks in there.”

“See? Now we’re talking.” Charlie gave Mac a high-five. “Now that’s a good idea.”

Mac opened the trunk, leaning forward into the van and rummaging around in the health inspector’s pockets. After a moment he pulled back with a grin, flipping through a thick leather wallet.

“Whoa, check it out. This guy is loaded,” he said. The rest of the Gang peered over his shoulder in curiosity.

“Gimme, I wanna see.” Charlie reached for the wallet, but Mac deflected his hand.

“Charlie, I’m the one who has to be levelheaded in this situation. Keep it cool and stable. I don’t think that will happen if I just give you a wallet full of cash.”

“I can guarantee that if you don’t give me that wallet I’m gonna freak out,” said Charlie.

“Goddamn it,” said Dee, exasperated. “Just give him the wallet, Mac.”

Mac gave him the wallet, glaring daggers at Charlie as he did so.

“He kills someone and suddenly he thinks he can just boss me around. . .”

“Yeah, well that’s kind of what happens when you murder someone in cold blood. Charlie gets to call some of the shots now,” said Dee, grimacing. She looked over to Dennis as if expecting him to ask for special privileges too, but he was staring off vacantly into the other direction

Charlie wasn’t listening either; he rifled through the cash in excitement. “This has to be like a hundred dollars in here! I’m gonna eat like a goddamn king.”

 “Careful!” cried Dee as odds and ends flew out of the wallet. “Do you want everyone to see that we were here?”

Mac looked pointedly up at the sky, gritting his teeth. “If you keep chirping that loud everyone will know where we are anyway.”

Dee ignored him, picked up the stuff that had fallen, and inspected it. Her eyes widened at the photograph in her hand.

“Oh shit you guys.”

“What is it now, Dee?” said Mac.

She showed them the picture. In it, the health inspector was side by side with another man. Both of them were in tuxedos, kissing happily.

“This guy has a husband.”

Charlie’s face fell. His hands grew slack, and he dropped the wallet. Mac, seeing a window of opportunity, grabbed it off the ground.

“Oh shit, does that make this a hate crime?” said Charlie.

“What-I don’t know, Charlie, did you hate him for being gay?” cried Dee.

Charlie rubbed at his eye. “If I wanted to kill someone for being gay, I would have killed Mac a long time ago.”

“What?! I’m not-You take that back, Charlie!” said Mac. He balled up his fists.

“Move past it,” said Dee. “Deal with your weird sexuality crisis later. This means the health inspector has a family.”

“Ok well outside of calling me queer, what do we do with that information?”

Dee thought for a moment. “Ok, hear me out. We use a burner phone to call his husband. One of you three pretends to be the health inspector’s boyfriend. You’ll say. . .both of you thought you could never be together, so you made a suicide pact. But you wanted the husband to know the truth before you died so you could rub it in one last time.”

Charlie nodded. “Then we smash the phone to bits?”

“Exactly.”

Mac shook his head. “That will never work.”

“It will work,” said Dennis, hoarsely. His bloodshot eyes bugged out of his head. “I can become that man.”


	5. End of Act 1

The inside of the gas station was run down and dark. A bored looking teenager was the only person working the shop. He was leaning on the counter and flicking a lighter on and off repetitively. Though the bell rang when the Gang entered, he didn’t seem to notice them.

There were two aisles solely stocked with junk food. Charlie’s eyes grew big. “So many choices.”

Mac pulled the wallet out of his pocket and handed Charlie one bill. “You get five dollars. Hurry up.”

“Whatever dude. I can feast on five dollars.” He wandered away to peruse the aisles.

“Dee, go buy us a burner phone,” said Mac, handing her a wad of cash.

“What are you gonna do?” she asked.

“I’m gonna watch Dennis as he practices at the act to make sure he doesn’t mess up or hurt himself.”

Dee nodded, and went to go buy the phone.

Dennis scoffed. “I could do this with a hand tied behind my back. Give me the license, Mac.”

Mac gave it to him. Dennis held it reverently with shaking fingers, looking at the picture as if it could look back at him. His face lost some of its color.

“Are you sure, you can do this, buddy?” asked Mac. He gripped onto his arm to prevent Dennis from falling over.

“I’m fine!” exclaimed Dennis, not looking away from the license. “I’m. . .John Thomas, age 31. This was my boyfriend. . .Cody. We were very much in love, but he was married. Since we could never be together, we decided to create a suicide pact so we could love freely in the afterlife.” Dennis turned to Mac, and smiled creepily. “How was that?”

“Perfect, dude. Except try to not sound so. . .monotone and creepy when you do it. A little bit goes a long way.”

Dennis nodded dumbly, and gazed at the license again. He ran through the routine several more times before Dee and Charlie reappeared. Charlie was happily munching on a Twix bar, and Dee was clawing at the packaging on the burner phone.

“Is he ready?” she asked as she finally removed it.

“Am I ready? Dee, I’ve never been more ready for anything. This is the way I think. This is the way I work. This is who I am!” said Dennis, far too loudly.

“You don’t have to shout about it. Do we want to do this outside or in here?”

“Outside,” said Mac. “Then there’s no witnesses.”

They exited the shop, and found a spot behind it where there were no other people.

Dee handed Dennis the phone. “The number is 934-642-897. Got it from his cell phone. Also he had an app for finding single dudes in the area so I may have gotten a few numbers from that as well. . .he had good taste.”

“Well it’s good that he was already cheating, but you’re not gonna get anywhere with those guys, Dee,” said Mac.

“Why not?” said Dee, looking offended.

“Was the app called Grindr?”

“Yeah.”

“Those guys are all gay. Every single one,” said Mac, shaking his head.

“How would you even know that?”

Mac’s face flushed. “I just know, ok?”

“Quiet!” shouted Dennis. “I need to get into character and I can’t have you guys blathering on while I do it.” He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Everything was silent for a few moments; then, he opened his eyes, and dialed the number.

“Put the call on speakerphone,” hissed Dee. Dennis complied.

“Hello?” said the health inspector’s husband. “Who’s calling?”

“Hi,” said Dennis. “My name is uh. Um. John.” He swallowed hard. “John Thomas. Your husband is dead.”

“What?!” the man cried. Dennis began shaking a little.

“Your husband KILLED himself because of ME. We were in LOVE. He hated you. I will DIE soon. Fuck.” Dennis crouched down on the ground; his breaths were audible.

“Is he panicking?” whispered Mac frantically.

“He’s panicking!” said Dee.

“Oh shit,” said Charlie.

“I AM ALREADY DEAD. I HAVE KILLED HIM. I DIDN’T KILL HIM. I AM HIM. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ANYMORE,” shouted Dennis directly into the phone. His face was red, and he was crying again.

“Who is this? Is this some kind of a joke? I’m calling the cops!” said the man.

“Get the phone away from him!” said Dee.

Mac pulled the phone out of Dennis’s vice-like grip and wrestled him to the ground. He threw it over to Charlie, who stomped on it over and over.

“GET OFF OF ME!” said Dennis.

“It’s for your own good, bro!” said Mac, looking right into Dennis’s eyes. Gradually, Dennis’s breathing slowed and he stopped struggling.

“I am not a man. I am no man. I am a broken machine,” he said, closing his eyes. Mac stood up.

“So we’re screwed, right?” said Charlie. He opened up another Twix, and shoved it whole into his mouth.

“No,” said Dee. “If we can get in the car and get away fast enough we won’t get caught.”

“You mean you won’t get caught, right?” said Mac, gears turning in his head. “Because you’re the one who bought the phone, and Dennis is your legally insane brother who would obviously confess to murdering the man if they linked this to the rest of us. You’d be the mastermind here.”

“Pinning it on Dee. That’s a good idea, Mac,” said Charlie.

“Thanks. See, I’d be terrified of what you would do to me if we turned you in, but Dee has weak little girl hands. I could take her down on my own.”

“Shut up. No one is getting caught! No one is turning anyone in. Pick up Dennis so we can go back to the car and find Frank,” said Dee.

“Leave me here to die,” moaned Dennis.

Dee’s face contorted into rage. She jerked Dennis off the ground by the scruff of his collar. “Listen, you pile of useless melodramatic meat. You will stop crying and move your ass to the car right now so none of us get caught or I will ruin you like the last bitch who crossed me.”

“Ow! Ok. . .ok.”

She marched away towards the car, Dennis right behind her.

“What was that all about?” muttered Charlie.

“I don’t know,” said Mac. “I think she’s bluffing.”

When they arrived back at the car, there was no sign of Frank. Dee pulled on the door handle.

“Where is Frank? This thing is locked.”

“Hang on, I’ll call him,” said Mac. He called Frank’s number, but only got a dial tone. “Guys. . .Frank deserted us.”

“What?!” cried Dee.

“Really?” said Charlie.

“Yeah, he’s gone and his phone is disconnected. He’s not coming back!”

“Well, there’s only one thing to do then, right?” said Charlie. He locked eyes with Mac.

“Make our getaway?” said Mac.

“Exactly, my friend.”

“Ok. On the count of three, you, me, and Dennis will all run in separate directions. One. . .two-”

He never got to three. Dee let out a scream of pure, feral rage, pulled a knife out of her pocket, and stabbed an unsuspecting Dennis in the thigh. Dennis cried out in pain.

“YOU STABBED ME. SISTER WHY?”

“What the hell, Dee?” shouted Mac as Charlie screamed wordlessly.

“Shut up!” she said. She pulled a second knife out of her pocket, and pointed it first at Mac and then at Charlie. “Listen here, boners. I’ve had about enough of any of you calling the shots.” She smashed the knife through the window, shattering it, and then unlocked it from the inside. “Get in the goddamn van and no one else gets hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! The end of act 1! Will Dee kill everyone? Will Dennis pull himself together? Will they get caught? Will we ever see Frank again? How will Mac and Charlie survive? Stay tuned. . .


	6. Act 2 Scene 1

Dee stood watch as Charlie hotwired the car. She rested the tip of her chin on her knife, surveying the surroundings with narrowed eyes. Dennis was babbling loudly to no one in the backseat, the words indistinct with the door shut.

Mac ran up to the car, pockets and hands stuffed with rolls of paper towels. He carried two bottles of water underneath his armpits. He opened the back door forcefully, and swallowed hard when he got another look at Dennis.

“You don’t look so hot, bro,” he said, throwing all the paper towels on the floor.

“There is an idea of a Dennis Reynolds, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me.” Dennis’s voice was a flat monotone.

“Ah, shit. Not this again.”

Mac pressed a paper towel to Dennis’s wound. The entire towel became soaked almost immediately.

Dee turned around at the noise. “What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s this weird thing that he does. We watched some movie about a rich dude who stabs people and listens to eighties pop.” Mac pressed a wad of towels to the wound this time, which was only slightly more effective. “Afterwards, he cried for like a whole day.”

“Though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping you and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there,” said Dennis to no one in particular.

“When he gets really upset, he’ll sit around and say the lines for hours. He’ll barely respond to anything. This is why nobody saw him the week of his fortieth birthday.”

“So you mean he’s even more useless now?” Dee groaned.

“Basically.” Mac uncapped one of the water bottles. “Hey buddy, you should drink this.”

“It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. My self is fabricated, an aberration,” Dennis replied. He didn’t grab hold of the water. Mac picked up another wad of paper towels, and exchanged them for the blood soaked ones.

“What did you do the last time this happened?” asked Dee.

“I just waited it out. You have to be careful though and not interrupt him when he’s speaking or he just starts over on the same monologue.” He nudged Dennis. “Come on, buddy. You’re losing a lot of blood. You gotta drink something.”

“My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent,” said Dennis. It was clear that Mac was right about the dehydration; Dennis’s face was growing paler, and his voice was becoming weak. Mac tapped at his lips with the rim of the bottle. “My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago, if they ever did exist.” His words were starting to slur.

He opened his mouth to start the second monologue, and Mac took advantage of the opportunity to pour the water in. Dennis sputtered and choked, still trying to say the words. Mac closed his lips, and stroked his hair.

“I’ll take care of you. Here, prison, anywhere. You’re safe.”

“That sounds weird, man. You’re making things weird again,” said Charlie. He pushed two of the wires together, jerked at the electricity flowing through his body, and suddenly the car revved to life.

“Finally!” said Dee. “Charlie, get in the passenger’s seat. Mac, get in the car.”

“Where are we going, Dee?” asked Charlie, as they piled in.

“The Schuylkill River,” Dee said. She started the car, pulling out of the parking lot

“Right, right. Good decision. And you know, I’m not just saying that because you have a knife,” said Charlie.

“Uh huh,” said Dee.

For a while, the only sounds were the engine and the health inspector rhythmically thumping against the trunk. Charlie and Dee eyed each other in uncomfortable silence.

“...I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why.”

“GODDAMN IT!” Dee screamed. She turned around, knife in hand, not looking at the road. “Mac, I don’t care how, but you had better find a way to shut him up because I am already fed up with his shit!”

“Dee stop!” cried Charlie as the car headed towards a ditch. He swerved back onto the road, and then slapped her in the face. “Pull yourself together!”

Dee redirected the knife, pointing it at Charlie’s chest, “You had better not touch me again, asshole.”

He swallowed nervously, palms up. “Listen. . .listen. I’m on your side. You and me, we’re in this crime together now. I know how you feel. You feel tense?”

“. . .Yeah, I’m feeling a little tense," Dee admitted. "Little worked up in my shoulders.” She cracked her neck, shimmying a little to try and work out the kinks.

“Perfectly normal after you try to kill someone,” Charlie said soothingly. “Makes everyone a little tense. Let me rub it out for you, just a little bit.”

Dee eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to honey-trap me, you son of a bitch?”

“No! No. I just think we could make a great team in this situation. Because those guys in the back, they’re dragging us down man.”

Mac looked up from another attempt to force-feed Dennis some water.“Hey! We can hear everything you’re saying, dude!”

“My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days,” said Dennis.

“I know buddy, I know,” said Mac, stroking his arm sympathetically.

“See, this is what I mean, Dee. We have two dead weights back there. Now it’s us against the rest of the world, they could get in the way,” sad Charlie as he rubbed Dee’s shoulders. Her body lost some of its tension.

"They're so in the way, Charlie. I wanna kill em so bad," said Dee, her eyes deranged.

"Well me too, obviously. It would be a mercy killing at this point," said Charlie.

"What?!" cried Mac.

"Quiet, you!" shouted Dee. Mac winced. "Continue, Charlie."

"What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was - do you really want to show them mercy, Dee? They almost left you behind to get caught. They would have ratted me out too if they weren't too scared. Do they deserve our mercy?"

Dee swallowed, and shook her head no.

"Exactly."

"Well what should we do instead, Charlie? Because I just have this. . .this anger flowing through my veins. I just want them to hurt so bad, I-"

"I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip," said Dennis.

Dee screamed animalistically. It was so loud that it seemed to jostle Dennis out of his reverie for just a moment. He blinked hard.

“Dee. . .?”

“What is it? What is it, Dennis?” said Dee, thrashing her head and spitting hair out of her mouth. The car veered again as she turned around, and Charlie hurriedly redirected it again. “Here to talk about how you totally murdered the guy in the back? Gonna quote a movie for a while? Do you actually have anything useful to say for once in this trip, huh? Spit it out!”

He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Everyone can tell you’re not a virgin.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dennis sighed and stared out the window. “You only get one virginity. We both wasted ours on someone who wasn’t even special. Tainted impulsive blood on our hands.”

The color drained from Dee’s face. “I didn’t actually kill her. It was only attempted.”

“This isn’t your first time trying to kill someone?” said Mac, his eyes going wide.

“Dee was in a mental prison,” said Dennis foggily. Dee gave him a murderous look; however, since he was staring off into space again, he didn't see it.

Mac started to hyperventilate. “Oh my God. I’m gonna die in here. This is how it ends.”

“That was private. . .information. . .you BASTARD. You promised you would never tell anyone!”

“Do you like Huey Lewis and the News?” Dennis said to thin air.

“You’re dead to me! DEAD!” cried Dee. She lunged towards Dennis, and wrapped her hands around his neck. He didn't respond. Mac tried to fight her off to no avail. Charlie lost his grip on the steering wheel, and suddenly the car was out of control, and veering right towards a ditch. He screamed bloody murder, but it was too late to redirect the car.

The car crunched as it hit the ditch head on, spraying glass everywhere. Everyone was pushed out of their seats and slammed to the floor. The engine hissed, and smoke billowed out from it.

Their getaway van was destroyed.


	7. Act 2 Scene 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is kind of short, but the next chapter will be MUCH longer and structured differently, so this is basically an interlude between the last chapter and the next one. Hope you like it!

Mac was pacing outside of the car, blood running down his temple. "What are we gonna do? This is so bad. Oh God, I'm gonna throw up." He squatted, hands on his thighs, and began hyperventilating.

"There's no reason to panic! Stop panicking!" shouted Dee.

Charlie pulled Dennis out of the car, and dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. The knife in his leg jostled, but he didn't cry out in pain."That's not how panicking works, Dee."

"It's how it works if I say it is!" She stormed over to Mac. "Hey, big shot, you're not proving to anyone right now that you could actually protect Dennis in prison."

"That's not true," he said, gasping for air. "I could take anyone."

"Are you sure? Seems like you would just cry little scared baby tears."

"I wouldn't!"

"Then prove it. Calm down, be helpful, and I'll consider not framing you for this in the first place."

Mac nodded, his breathing slowing.

"What do you think we should do, Dee?" asked Charlie.

She considered this for a moment. "I think the only thing we can do is walk. Charlie, grab the body and put his sunglasses back on."

Charlie nodded, opened the trunk, and fiddled around inside it.

"This is a terrible idea," said Mac.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Do you have a better one?" asked Dee sarcastically. Mac shook his head no. "I didn't think so. Pick Dennis up off of the ground."

"Come on buddy," Mac said. He grabbed Dennis's hands, and pulled him to his feet. Dennis swayed, but didn't fall over. Mac stepped backwards, guiding him, and Dennis took two shaky steps to follow along. "Looks like he can walk."

“I’m not here,” said Dennis, voice cracking. "I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?" He swayed again, and leaned on Mac for support. Mac patted his hand comfortingly. 

"Whatever you say, man."

Charlie joined their circle, dragging the body behind him on his shoulders. He raised his hand.

"What is it, Charlie?" said Dee.

"I already carried this body around once. Can we make them do it this time?"

"What?! No way, I'm not doing that."

"I like that idea," said Dee. She pulled the knife out of her pocket, and pointed it at Dennis. "Carry the body or I'll make it so you have to carry two."

Charlie carried the body over to Mac, and rested it over his shoulders. Mac gagged. “This is disgusting. He smells like shit.”

“Move,” said Dee, prodding his side with the knife. “We’re losing daylight.”

“Where?” asked Mac.

Dee blinked, surprised by the question. “Oh, uh. Hang on.” She pulled out her phone, and said, “Siri, which way is Schuylkill River?”

“I found one match fairly close to you, Beautiful Queen Dee.”

“Oh thank God. Only a half mile. . .” she pointed north. “That way.” Dee walked in that direction, motioning for Mac, Dennis, and Charlie to follow suit. In their groups of two, they made their long journey to the river.


	8. Act 2 Scene 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and definitely the next (maybe the one after that as well?) will be formatted slightly differently than the last ones. Essentially, all this stuff is happening at the same time. I am fairly certain this is clear, but in case it's not now you know.

Dennis was in a white room alone. He was unsure how long he had been there. There was a sense that the space was eternal, that he had always and would always inhabit it. Vaguely, he could feel pain radiating through his body, though it appeared unscathed.

“Hello?” he called out, wondering if he was alone. Oddly, his words didn’t echo.

“Hello, Dennis,” said a familiar voice with a British accent.

“Who’s there?” said Dennis. “Where am I?”

A mirror image of himself (albeit dressed in more attractive clothing) appeared in front of him.

“No need to worry,” said the man. “I’m you, and you are neither here nor there.”

“Am I dead? Does this mean that there’s an afterlife?” asked Dennis.

“No,” said British Dennis. “But you have lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m not hurt,” said Dennis, inspecting his aching body again.

“Not that you can see. You exist in two realities right now: your time with me and your movement through the plane of traditional reality, what some might call the ‘real world.’ Don’t listen to them; the things you can create in your own mind are just as real.”

“That seems a little crazy,” said Dennis. His vision blurred for a moment, and he could just make out grass and trees and someone (Mac?) talking.

“Does it?” said British Dennis, jaw tightening.

“I don’t know,” said Dennis. “I’m so confused, British Dennis.”

“I can prove to you how real this is, Dennis Reynolds. You’re about to be in tremendous pain in three. . .two. . .one-”

The world went black when the pain hit, like being buried alive. Dennis Reynolds was nowhere to be found in this strange new world of darkness.

****

What do you think they’re gonna do to us after we hide the body?” asked Mac. Dennis stayed silent, lost in his own little world. His pant leg dripped with blood, and the knife in his thigh jiggled every time he took a step. Mac plowed onwards as if Dennis was able to hold a conversation. “I think they might actually put us in prison.”

The health inspector thunk, thunk, thunked as they trudged over the bumpy terrain.

“It’s ok though, if we got in there. We’d stick together, you and me. Get fake names. Maybe go back to being Hugh and Vic. I like those.” He nudged Dennis with his elbow, but Dennis continued to be unresponsive.

“You’d probably get all back to normal once we were in jail, and that would be terrible because, admit it, you’re a whore.”

Dennis nodded, although it was unclear if it was aimed at Mac. Mac grinned widely. “See, we’re on the same page! Dee’s talking about how crazy you are. You’re not that bad. You’re still in there. She’s such a bitch.” He laughed, ending it in a sigh. “Yep. You and me in prison together. We’d be married obviously. That would be the best way to protect you.”

The knife finally came loose from Dennis’s leg, and fell to the ground. Dennis leaned over, white as a sheet, and vomited on the grass. He dropped to his knees, staring pathetically into space. Mac frowned.

“Dennis, you can’t just stop moving like this. Dee will kill us, and I can’t protect you in prison if you’re not alive.”

Dennis spit the remains of his sick on the ground. Mac nudged him with his foot. “Come on buddy. Let’s keep moving.”

****

“They’re going so slow,” whined Dee. “What is taking them so long?”

“Weakness, Dee. They’re weak people. They’re not fighters like us,” said Charlie. He looped his arm around her waist, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Don’t make me regret saying this, but I’m glad you’re here. If you weren’t on this getaway, oh man, those two guys back there would already be dead.”

“That would be a ridiculous amount of bodies to hide,” said Charlie matter-of-factly.

“I know, Charlie. I know.”

They walked along in silence for a while, the only noises being Mac’s indistinct talking far in the background. Surreptitiously, Charlie pickpocketed one of her knives, and removed his arm from around her waist. Then he said in a low voice, “So what _are_ we going to do with them if we don’t kill them?”

“I don’t know. I thought you had a plan,” whispered Dee.

“I did, but it involved having a car.”

“Goddamn it,” said Dee. “Well, what would it have been? Maybe we could adapt it to our new situation.”

Charlie nodded. “Ok, hear me out. So we would dump the body in the lake and then leave Mac and Dennis with it. We threaten to kill them if they blab.”

“That’s good, that’s a good idea. But why wouldn’t Mac just spill the beans on us?”

“I’m getting to that! We hit him on the head, making him all confused. Maybe we stab him just a little bit. We call the police from a burner phone. The both of them, they barely know up from down. Mac won’t want to leave Dennis alone in prison. Dennis will confess. Then boom, you and me get some cash and buy a plane ticket to South America. Change our names, set up a llama farm.”

Dee’s face lit up. “Ooh I like that. Except for the part with the llama farm. We should open a male strip club in Buenos Aires.”

“Look the llama farm is on the table or I walk, Dee,” said Charlie.

Dee sighed. “Fine. Llama farm-slash-strip club. We’ll make it work. Either way we’ll be scot free and dripping with cash.”

“Yeah. . .all we need is another car and everything can go according to plan.”


End file.
